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Oh man … Saturday. Kirsty’s already made her apologies, but I’m thinking everyone should just be grateful that my drunken ramblings took the form, not of tweets, but texts … to the people I was drinking with. No harm, right?

This weekend I was up in NYC. The plan was to have brunch with my friend Margaret, meet up with Mary for dinner, and see my friend Paul’s workshop show. The remaining hours would be filled as things came up … but no real plans were made. As luck would have it, I was able to meet up with Paul prior to the show, and he requested that we grab a drink afterwards. Standard practice, and I was happy to oblige.

Now, I’m thinking Paul needs a little background. We met when I was 22 and he was 24, and became fast friends … working in the storefront theater scene in the OC leads to you knowing anyone and everyone and oftentimes feels fairly incestuous. We never dated (though nearly everyone we knew assumed we did), and in hindsight, that’s a good thing.

Now, being in our early twenties, we were … idiots. Alcohol was easy to come by, and we took full advantage of it. This weekend we laughingly reminisced about the nights we were gather a bunch of people at his place, and basically just drink our faces off, trying out new recipes and games. One particular night involved all but three of us (me, Paul, his roommate) leaving early. Paul got trashed, got sick on the lawn, and proceeded to drunkenly hose off said lawn. His roommate got drunk, got pissy and locked himself in his room. I looked around, realized I was the only one NOT drunk, and proceeded to fix that.

Like I said, idiots.

In any case, years have passed, and we’ve remained close. I’m pretty sure I’ve only missed one of his shows (due to being on the wrong side of the country), and he’s never missed one of mine. He stuck around and helped me when I had my accident (not many people did that … nothing like a major crisis to really sort out your life), and was the ONLY person who made an effort to see me before I left California for good. He made the move to NYC in early February, and I could not be more thrilled to have him only a few hours away. This year we’ll be 28 and 30.

So let’s get back to Saturday night. The plan was to find a place we could grab a drink and catch up, but after the show, his cast decided they wanted to GO. OUT. This being the first time they’d ever done so, we were totally tagging along.

Problem #1: With one exception, the cast is all under 24.

Problem #2: Being under 24, many of them are college students. As such, they wanted to go to “this awesome bar” across the street from NYU.

Problem #3: Being under 24, and mainly female, they were not looking for a ring on my hand, and as such DID. NOT. SEE. IT. (This also held true for the many 21-year-old NYU boys in the bar. Even when I practically waved it in their faces. Honestly, I got a kick out of it.) This led to both of us having to field “Is she (are you) your (his) girlfriend?!” several times throughout the night. ::headdesk::

In any case, to the college bar we went. And started off with whiskey … as you do.* 4 hours later the following had happened:

– Upon observing the college kids, the joke “we are too old for this” was made several times.

– One of the bartenders had decided she wanted one of the cast members (the only other one over 24). He, of course, second guessed that she was actually flirting, and came to me for advice. Apparently my advice worked, they let me know last night that they have a date this week.

– The object of Paul’s affection had made it clear she was put of by my being there. “Is she your girlfriend.” “No, I’ve known her for years and she’s married to a good friend of mine.”** “Are you SURE? She’s really pretty.”*** “I’m sure, don’t worry.” ::laughs:: It must be said, the girls were all genuinely friendly all night, just put off by the idea that he wasn’t single. He is, sweetie, flirt on. =)

– Much whiskey, rum, and beer were consumed.

– I was proclaimed the BEST WINGMAN EVAR, and Paul was proclaimed a “lucky bastard” for being able to reap the benefits. Reasons I gained this title included:

1. The fact that being a straight female, I wasn’t going to change my mind and run off with the girl he liked.

2. I was giving good girl advice … you know, being a girl myself and all.

3. I explained the “jealousy game” to the boy who gave me the title. “You know how it goes … you think you might
like a girl, but aren’t really sure. Then she shows up with some random guy and is clearly close to him. And you
think “THAT ASSHOLE! Back off buddy!”. But it turns out he’s a good friend, or a cousin or something, and
therefore safe. But NOW you are SURE you like her. See what I mean? If my being here drums up a little jealousy
on her part, so much the better for Paul.”

Yah, that last one earned me a look of awe, and a drink. You’re welcome boy-who-now-understands-women-a-tiny-bit-more.

It was a good night.

Paul and I left at 2, as yet ANOTHER wave of students was stumbling in. (Side note … I’m from California … last call is at 1:30 … 1:45 if you’re LUCKY. What’s this 4am nonsense?) Street food (gyro and rice FTW) and 2 subway rides later, I (gracefully, of course) let myself into my friend’s apartment, inhaled half a pint of ice cream while sitting in front of the air conditioner’s window box, and then passed out.

I woke up at 12:30pm Sunday. Texted Paul to make sure he was alive (we were supposed to be getting brunch). He responded with “Alive, but definitely staying in. You?”

“I hurt. Paul, seriously, we are too old for this shit.”

“INDEED.”

Ah, growing up. =)

* It must be noted, we were the only ones drinking anything other than beer. I’m pretty sure our group finished the keg of Blue Moon. At least their taste in beer is decent!

**** The aftermath: I actually made it out the door, but only because I had to catch a bus back to DC. 4 bottles of water, some Motrin, and a big burger later, I was hurting less, but EXHAUSTED. Paul eventually made it out of the house as well … but I beat him by about 3 hours. Clearly, I win. ::winks::

Somehow, over the course of the last several months, Lauren has become one of my very best girls. And Kamel is her perfect complement. Watching them together is wonderful, and I have no doubt they will have a long, love-filled life.

Head on over to Lauren’s blog, or leave them love right here, and wish them well as they begin their life together. I’ll be here doing happy dances.

Please tell me you’ve seen this site. Moment Junkie is the brainchild of Ryan Brenizer and Kyle Hepp. In their words:

Moment Junkie is a blog devoted to showcasing the best in contemporary wedding photojournalism, with a focus on moments between people that are timeless, heartbreaking, hilarious, or all of the above. We love gorgeous portraits and well-planned details, but so often we’ve found that the photos we hold most dear — the ones we would give anything to hold onto — are those that encapsulate a memorable moment or remind us of how we felt as much as they show us how we looked. So we’re here to tell those stories, with submissions from some of the best working photographers around today.

And seriously? It’s. The. Best.

Go. Enjoy. Sob a little. Laugh a little. Have a daily moment of peace. You’ll be hooked … I promise.

Christy’s in the Bay Area, and available for pretty much anything you can throw at her: families, kids, graduations, engagements, maternity, trash-the-dress (in pools! and fountains!) … and I have a sneaking suspicion you could talk her into bridal portraits (and maybe even a wedding?) without too much trouble. =)

She also (clearly, I mean what DOESN’T this girl do?) does actual fine art photography and is currently working on pricing for prints. So all you art lovers out there? Go check out her stuff. Trust me. It’s GORGEOUS.

And all you Bay Area ladies? Christy’s a blast. Get to know her, hang out. She’s good people … and she won’t steal your beer. Win win, right? Oh … and she went to school with Emily (of Emily Takes Photos), so you KNOW she rocks.

Considering most of you have come into my life through APW (and are female), this may come as a bit of a shock:

I hate girls.

I’ve always hated girls. The pretty pretty princess play of the girls in my neighborhood could never compare to the games of street hockey and dressing up as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with my childhood best friend, Eric. To say I was a tomboy would be putting it EXTREMELY mildly. I was the 7-year-old who teachers knew to keep separated from a particular boy … because we would physically fight when in close proximity. The 10-year-old who had a royal FIT when I was cast as the princess in the school play. Who wanted to wear a gold dress and faint when there were sword battles to be had? The 15-year-old who kicked a boy when he dared to suggest a girl couldn’t play soccer.

In the 13 years since that kicking, I’ve changed … a bit. Skirts are allowed (though I’ll generally choose jeans), and there are definitely more pairs of heels in my closet than anyone really needs. But as much as things change, things also tend to stay the same: with one very big exception (that’d be Skye … you’ll hear a lot about her) the majority of my closest friends are guys. I follow hockey like nobody’s business. I’ve had my sword fights … in and out of full skirts. I play hard and rough, and generally am annoyed when I have to “behave like a lady.” Which is not to say I CAN’T … but that’s beyond the point. ::winks::

So imagine my surprise to find myself ears deep in a community of thoughtful, intelligent, hilarious, caring WOMEN.

And loving every second of it.

I don’t know if it’s that I’m finally becoming compatible with women, or that APW attracts ladies who think the same way I do … I like to think it’s a little bit of both. But it constantly amazes me that I have this awesome network of women … those that I have met and those that I’ve gotten close to online … who I can relate to, share with, laugh with, fight for, and support … women I LIKE. Women I can jump on a bus … or drive 400 miles … to see, be sure of a couch to crash on, and know, without a doubt, we’re going to get along BETTER than we do online. Women I can count on for a happy hour, for a good conversation, for sympathy and closely kept secrets. And if the last couple of meet-ups have been any indication, there will always be at least one new lovely worth keeping each time we all get together.

So … Team Practical … and all the women who’ve always been on Team Sarah (whether I’ve acknowledged it or not) … thanks. I love you all. There’s a couch and a cold beer waiting for you, whenever you want it. Just say the word.